Coffee Shop
by CrystalIceSweet
Summary: Kurt's job at the coffee shop was boring, that is until a British stranger tumbles in on one rainy afternoon, looking as if he has just been in a fight. Harry may seem like the perfect gentleman on the outside, but Kurt wasn't stupid enough to ignore his dark side…or that he carries a gun. Kurt just never expected how much Harry would change his life. SLASH. HP/KH. Wizard!Harry.


**Summary**: Kurt's job at the local coffee shop was boring but necessary – if he didn't want to bankrupt his father with NYADA school fees, that is. However, he may have to reconsider the "boring" factor when a British stranger tumbles in on one rainy afternoon, looking as if he has just been in a fight. Harry may seem like the perfect gentleman (once he cleaned up) on the outside, but Kurt wasn't stupid enough to ignore his dark side…or the fact he carries a gun for protection. SLASH.

A/N: Perhaps mpreg in the future, any thoughts? I would also love feedback on whether I should continue this.

Ok, enjoy and thanks for reading.

* * *

**Chapter 1 Rainy Day Meetings**

**Sunday**

_In retrospective, this whole mess started out on a pretty average day…_

Kurt was just about to store away the last of the coffee mugs used that day, when the bell on the door jingled, telling him that someone had just walked in. He didn't even look up as he called out a simple: "We're closed."

On usual days, Kurt would never be so curt with a potential customer, since tips is what makes up the biggest part of his income. But today was an exception; it was cold, windy and rainy; New York at its worse. All Kurt wanted was to finish his shift and head back to the small apartment he shared with Rachel; maybe even take a bath, then curl up in bed with a good book. He didn't want to delay that moment just because some idiot decides to ignore the closed sign on the door and come in anyway.

When no second jingle from the bell came to indicate that whoever it was, left, Kurt finally looked up, an annoyed expression on his face, ready to repeat himself. He really didn't have the patience to deal with stubborn bastards today of all days. If whoever it was won't listen to a first request, Kurt wasn't going to shy away from repeating himself as much as the situation needed for the other to finally get the message.

However all his carefully chosen words died in his mouth when he took in the new arrival.

The man – because it was definitely a man, with his broad shoulders and 5 o'clock shadow – looked…frankly terrible.

His dark hair – longer than most people's, including Kurt's – was windswept and messy, not in a sexy kind of way either. Even from this far, Kurt could see that it was soaked and plastered to his forehead, some strands falling directly in to his eye.

His clothing – a jacket and jean ensemble – didn't look any better either; apart from being completely wet, it was also torn in several areas; his tie was askew and his jacket sleeve was practically only hanging on by sheer force of will. Put that together with the fact the man had a horrible gash on his right cheek, starting from his eyebrow and ending just above his lips, it wasn't difficult to conclude he most likely had just been in a fight…and lost.

Ok, the thing was, Kurt may be a lot of things; sarcastic and cold when the situation called for it, was one, but, he has never been what one called selfish. When he saw people in danger or in need of a help that he can provide, Kurt has never backed down, sometimes even at the risk of his own safety. Rachel has called it a hero complex, but whatever it was, it was preventing Kurt from throwing this man out on his ass and lock the door in his face. It wasn't an easy decision, that's for sure; especially when Kurt's eye landed on the gun holster strapped to the man's chest as he tried to keep himself standing with only his right hand on the table for support.

Kurt sighed and hoped that this won't come back and bite him in the ass in the future.

"Fine, fine," he grumbled to himself as he walked around the counter and towards the new arrival. The man was so out of it that he didn't even blink when Kurt helped him sit down on a nearby chair – for some reason, Kurt couldn't help but feel that the man wouldn't have allowed such easy contact if he wasn't dead on his feet.

Once Kurt let him go, he slumped in to the chair and let out a contented moan, obviously relieved to not be standing anymore. Despite the situation and the fact that he may actually be in the same room as an armed and dangerous individual who gets involved in fights, Kurt blushed at the sound. It wasn't his fault, really; Blaine has been rather distant after their tentative reunion during Thanksgiving and Kurt spend most of his free time not watching television or going out with Rachel, either moping around in his room or getting himself off in the shower. He was tired, sexually frustrated and simply annoyed at life. Besides, sex noises don't discriminate.

Ok, God was he pathetic.

Luckily, before Kurt could start on a session of self-pity, the messy haired stranger collected himself enough to croak out a weak: "Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

"It's ok," Kurt replied while trying not to swoon outwardly at his British accent – it's the first time he met anyone British, so he should be allowed some time to bask in it. Instead he handed the man a clean rag he had brought with him. The stranger took it and carefully started to dry his hair with minimal success.

"Bloody hell, I hate rain," he grumbled after a while, giving up on the impossible task and threw the rag dejectedly on to the table. The thing landed on a wad of napkins, soaking them almost immediately. "Sorry. I wasn't aiming for that."

Kurt shrugged; considering everything, napkins were the last of his worries.

"Don't worry about it; anyway, do you want something hot to drink? Maybe it was warm you up."

The man give him a smile as he agreed, and Kurt tried to ignore how the expression literally lighted up his whole face, making him look gorgeous and approachable and not gorgeous and a potential killer.

Shaking his head a little at the ridiculousness of his thoughts, Kurt headed over to the counter and grabbed a glass. He came back minutes later with a cup of hot water and placed it in front of the British man. The latter reflexively latched on to the steaming beverage and let out another of his contented moans as he took a first sip.

"It's only water," Kurt couldn't help but remark, his face hot once more, "Are you really that thirsty?"

"I haven't drunk all day," the man admitted sheepishly as he finished half the content, despite how hot it must be, "I'm cold and thirsty, so a cup of hot water is kind of like ambrosia for me right now."

Kurt nodded. It made sense, he guessed.

The next few moments were passed in silence as Kurt let the man enjoy his drink in peace. Kurt took that time to return to the bar and come back with a first aid kit for the man's wound. He may not be an expert on wounds and all that, but he learnt enough from Carole that a wound will probably infect if it's not treated as soon as possible. Kurt didn't really want the man to end up with a permanent scar on his face just because Kurt didn't think of treating him sooner.

Luckily, when he returned to the table, the man has finished his cup and was watching him with a mixture of gratefulness and amusement. He looked much better, Kurt realized; a little color having finally returned to his cheeks. He didn't look as if he was about to kneel over any seconds, much to the teen's relief. A conscious man he can deal with, but an unconscious one will be more difficult to help.

Kurt tried to ignore the way his own heart sped up a little when the man give him another one of his radiant smiles and proceeded to pull out disinfectant and bandages from the first aid box.

"You mind?" he asked and the other shook his head, letting Kurt close enough to treat him. Kurt attempted to concentrate on cleaning the gash and bandaging it and not on how good the man smelled, a mixture of vanilla and cinnamon, if that made any sense. And to his greatest horror, Kurt was actually finding himself getting hard.

He must have made a distressed noise of some kind because the man looked up in surprise, ignoring his automatic order to stay still, and looked at him directly in the eye. From this distance, they were practically nose to nose; something that only made Kurt's current predicament that much worse. So with the last bout of self-preservation he possesses, Kurt jumped back.

For one moment, the man looked shocked at his reaction before his gaze travelled down Kurt's body and eventually landed on his crotch; Kurt will the first to admit he liked to indulge in self-denial from time to time, but even he couldn't ignore how obvious his erection was tenting the front of his trousers. There was no way the man couldn't have noticed that, especially with how light the café was, and for one terrible moment, a wash of fear washed over Kurt.

_Oh god_, Kurt thought to himself, his head swimming with possibilities, what if this man was a homophobe and would kill him because he thought Kurt was peeving on him? He didn't know if the stranger was a killer or not, but he had a gun and straight guys tends to act the most unpredictable ways when they think their manly virtue is at stake. Maybe Kurt can apologize; maybe if he reminded the man how much he had helped him, he wouldn't hurt him. Oh god, why did Kurt get himself in to these situations?

He wasn't ashamed to admit it; he was practically on the verge of shitting himself there and then when the man started to…laugh.

It was a beautiful sound, low and velvety and would have probably done things to Kurt's body if the teen wasn't to busy freaking the hell out.

"Bloody hell," the stranger finally managed to get out after succeeding in getting his laughter under control, "Who do you think I am? I'm not offended, really…I'm actually pretty flattered a pretty boy like you finds me attractive."

"P…pretty boy," Kurt spluttered, all hopes of control shot to the wind with one compliment from the other man, "Hey, we're not in a porno here."

Harry laughed again, but this time it was short lived. He winced, his hand reaching out of grab his side as if in pain. Kurt immediately started to worry.

"Hey, are you ok? You aren't hurt anywhere else, right?"

"Don't worry," the stranger told him, "Just bruised ribs, I'm fine."

"Oh," Kurt mumbled, "That's good."

The stranger was looking at him again, expression soft and somewhat intimate. Kurt felt blood rush to his face, still not used to positive male attention, and quickly scrambled for something to say. The only thing he managed to find on a short notice was: "My name is Kurt by the way, what's yours?"

For one moment, Kurt thought the man wouldn't answer and was ready to tell him he didn't have to say anything, when the stranger, extended a hand towards him.

"It's nice to meet you Kurt; I'm Harry Evans."

They shook, Harry's hand warm in Kurt's, sending shivers up Kurt's arm from their point of contact.

Harry took his hand back after a while and looked at the clock. He grimaced at what he saw.

"It's late; I have to go now. Thanks for everything," he told Kurt, who ridiculously found himself disappointed that Harry was leaving. Was he really the same guy who thought Harry was going to kill him for getting turned on, just a few minutes ago? God, Kurt really needs to get a hold of himself…and maybe stop taking so many night classes. He really wasn't thinking clearly these days.

"Wait," Kurt finds himself saying, his arm reaching out to stop him from getting up, "Why don't I get you a muffin for the road?"

Harry immediately started protesting that he didn't need a muffin and Kurt was already so nice, but Kurt wasn't having a word of it.

"Don't worry," he told Harry, "Just wait here."

He bypassed a puddle where Harry jacket had dripped on to the floor – he will have a find a mop later – and rushed to the back of the shop where the muffins are stored for the night. He figures Harry could wait a few minutes alone for Kurt to come back.

After finding the best one – a big, blueberry muffin because Harry kind of looked like a blueberry guy – and putting it in to a paper bag – it took a moment or two for Kurt to find it unfortunately – Kurt rushed out again, ready to apologize for the delay, when he froze in his tracks.

One cursory once over of the shop told him that Harry has disappeared.

It wasn't the kind of disappeared that meant he had just left or something; no, it was almost as if Harry has vanished from existence. There wasn't even a trace of his presence left in the café; anything to tell Kurt that he had actually been there. The puddle of water was gone, and the chair was pushed back in to its former position. The cup Kurt had placed in front of Harry was gone as well and Kurt noticed, almost dazedly, that it has been returned to the shelf, exactly were he had taken it from. The bell hadn't even jingled because Kurt knew, if it had, he would have heard it loud and clear even from the back. So how on earth had Harry left?

_Was I really hallucinating?_ Kurt couldn't help but think to himself as he returned the muffin to the pantry. _God, that was so weird._

* * *

Despite what some people might assume, Kurt did not spend the following days after his after hours encounter with Harry, thinking none stop about the man. In fact, when Monday finally rolled around, putting an end to Kurt's weekend, he was thrown once again in to the chaos that was full day classes and night jobs; he barely has time to juggle between homework, friends and the coffee shop, let along diverting valuable brain space to someone who he probably will never see again.

On Monday, Kurt started school at 8.30, spent the next hours either in rehearsal, acting class or dancing lessons. Then he ate lunch with Rachel at the campus cafeteria while gossiping about recent events.

On Tuesday, Kurt came back to their apartment to find that Blaine has called him while he was at school. Since it was his rare night off, Kurt decided to call back, only to get Blaine's voicemail. He wasn't discouraged in the least and tried numerous times until he finally got a response around 9. However, it wasn't Blaine who answered. Kurt didn't know who it was but it was definitely a boy he has never met before.

The boy seemed rather surprised when Kurt told him who he was and promised to get Blaine. And when Blaine did come on to the line, he was sleepy and annoyed, snapping at Kurt for disturbing his night. Kurt hung up after barely 2 minutes of meaningless chatter, feeling terrible and wanting to cry. He didn't though, because he was worth more than that; if Blaine can't see it, it was none of Kurt's business. But despite how many pep talks he gave himself, he still spent the rest of the evening eating out a ice cream carton while watching the Notebook and pretending his tears were for the characters on screen. Rachel came home around 10 and for once, didn't comment; they spent the night cuddling and not thinking about life.

On Wednesday, Kurt spent the day feeling like crap, alternating between snapping at everyone who even dared to talk to him and not thinking about Blaine and who that mysterious boy might be. The thing was, Kurt was far from stupid; he may have been a little naïf when he had thought he was in love with Blaine, but that phase quickly passed once he realized that Blaine was far from stupid. Don't get him wrong, Blaine could be sweet and caring; but he was also a attention-seeking brat at times and unconsciously selfish that he fails to notice anyone else's feelings other than his own. As pessimistic as it may seem, Kurt has always knew, deep inside him, that Blaine wasn't the long term relationship type, regardless of all those romantic crap he likes to sprout. His attention span has always been short; and Kurt…well…he might not want to admit it, but he has been waiting since that first kiss, for everything to go south. He didn't know what was sadder; the fact that Blaine has cheated on him or that Kurt hadn't even been surprised.

On Thursday, everything seems to go back to normal. Rachel was relieved, Kurt could tell, not only because she had been worried about Kurt but also because she was terrible at playing the comforting friend almost as much she hates doing it. Rachel has always been a self-centered person; so most of her attempts at making Kurt feel better, somehow always go back to her. Kurt was actually pretty amused by it all.

So with everything that has happened between Sunday and Friday, it wasn't a big surprise that by Friday, Kurt has almost forgotten Sunday's incident…

…then of course, this happens...

* * *

**Friday**

"Working this late should be illegal," Christy commented wryly as she blew another strand of her strawberry blond hair away from her face.

Her messy ponytail was already falling apart and her blouse was missing a few buttons, showing an extended view of her cleavage, much to some patrons' delight. Although she may say its not her fault the buttons falls way too easily, Kurt figured it wasn't as black and white as it may seem; especially considering how her tips have skyrocketed after she started showing more skin. Kurt wished that the trick also worked for him but he figured if he tried something similar to Christy, he would get kicked out on his ass faster than he can say, "I'm sorry." Life really wasn't fair.

"Kurt, are you listening to me? I'm serious Kurt, why are we still here? This place is always empty this time of the day."

Instead of responding, Kurt merely rolled his eyes from where he was cleaning the counter and tried not to let loose what he was really thinking – aka, call her a whiny brat and ask her if she hated her job so much, why doesn't she quit already.

Truth be told, Kurt liked Christy; she was the first one to reach out to him during his first days at the shop and hasn't left his side since. She was half-American and half-German, another international student studying architecture at a nearby college. She was witty and sharp, and has a sarcastic streak that could probably rival Kurt's. She was like a female version of him…just way less fashionable and fabulous. Kurt knew he would probably miss her dearly if she ever did quit…not that he would ever tell her that, of course.

"Kurttttt," Christy whined when Kurt continued to ignore her, "Kurtttt, come on, entertain me."

"Christy," Kurt gritted through his teeth, her whining not helping his developing headache in the least, "Shut up before I strangle you."

Luckily for both of their sanities, the bell took that moment to jingle, signaling the arrival of a new customer.

Kurt sighed in relief before pushing Christy towards the cash register.

"Go," he told her, ignoring her protests, "I still have to finish here."

Christy went rather reluctantly, her heels clicking on the marble floor as she walked away. Kurt figured that it would probably take her a minute or two to deal with the customer before she comes back to bother Kurt some more. At least he will have some silence until then.

So that was why he was more then a little surprised when Christy came back barely seconds later, and planted herself in front of Kurt, hands on her hips.

"What?" Kurt asked, for lack of anything else to say, "You scared the customer away already? That must be a record, even for you."

Christy gave him an unimpressed look.

"Actually," she started, tone sugary sweet, "he's actually here for you." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she leaned even closer to Kurt, nose almost touching his: "Why didn't you tell me you knew a hot British guy? Kurt, we're friends, so you're supposed to share."

It took Kurt an embarrassing amount of time to compute what she has just said; hot British guy…his eyes widened dramatically as he suddenly recalled with surprisingly clarity, that incident a week ago. He has been so busy lately that Harry and his gorgeous smile, have actually escaped his mind.

"Oh, yeah, I don't know him actually," Kurt admitted, even as he dried his hands on a clean rag, ready to go over, stomach filled with butterflies, despite his best effort to stay nonchalant, "He came in after hours on Sunday and I helped him out. He was soaking wet and hurt; I gave him a cup of water and a first aid kit. He must be here to say thank you."

Still obviously suspicious, Christy nonetheless let him go, watching his every step with her eagle sharp eyes. Kurt resisted the urge to shiver as he made his way to the front.

His first thought as he took in the waiting customer was that, as Christy has said, a hot British guy was indeed waiting for him at the cash register. His second thought was that unfortunately, it was definitely not Harry, unless Harry has undertaken some kind of surgery between Sunday and today.

The guy waiting was blond for one thing, with gray eyes and aristocratic features; he was also looking around the shop in disgust, as if he couldn't believe he had actually set a foot in here. Kurt didn't have to talk to him to know he was bully and a self-centered brat. Kurt hated him on the spot.

Since insulting customers – especially armed ones who could very well shoot him for his disrespect (like Harry, the guy also had a gun strapped to his torso, just below his armpit. The only reason Kurt even saw it was because the angle was good and Kurt could easily see inside his designer suit jacket) – was against the café's policy, Kurt mustered up his most convincing smile and walked over.

"Hello, I'm Kurt," he said, barely flinching when the man's intense gaze fell on him. Kurt noted that the contempt in his expression didn't waver. "Christy told me that you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, indeed," the blond said with a sneer, "I have to say, I'm kind of disappointed, I thought you would be more…impressive…considering who _he _is. I bet people won't even notice if you go missing."

Kurt immiedietly bristled at that and tried to ignore the prickle of fear the man's words sent down his spine. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this man was dangerous; it was in the set of his shoulders; it was in his sharp, unwavering gaze; it was in the almost animalistic expression on his face. Kurt may not know why the man was here, but he wanted him out of here as soon as possible.

In retrospective, perhaps it was adrenaline that prompted Kurt to do what he did next, especially when he was pretty sure this man wouldn't hesitate to shoot him if Kurt annoyed him enough.

"Look," he snapped, tone cold as ice, trying to show that he was not afraid of him in any way. The man actually looked surprised by the change of attitude. "I don't know who you are and why you are here. If I were you, I would leave before I call the police."

The threat of cops coming only made the man more amused; something that does not help to curve the anxiety now slowly making his heart beat ten times faster.

After a moment of intense staring contest, the man finally held his hands up in surrender, an entertained look now on his face.

"Wow, calm down; I haven't said anything yet. You really need to control your temper."

Kurt's glare was so venomous that it has sent lesser men running for their life.

Unfortunately, whoever this blond was, he was far from affected.

"Don't get your hackles up, I'm leaving."

He turned around, about to do just that, before he stopped in his tracks. Kurt felt his whole body tense again, anticipating some kind of assault. But the man just opened his mouth to talk.

"Oh I forgot," he said, turning once more to Kurt, a malicious smirk on his face, "If you see Potter again, tell him Draco Malfoy sends him his regards. Tic Toc, Tic Toc, time's running out…if he doesn't want to lose the game."

The feeling of dread, of wrongness that had taken over his body was only intensified by those words; the certainty that this man was both dangerous and psychotic washed over him and Kurt couldn't help but grimace at how this whole thing was feeling more and more like an episode of CSI, much to his horror. Whoever this Potter guy is, he must have been involved in to something bad. Kurt just wondered why they, whoever they are, believe that he was involved.

"Hey, you ok? You look kind of pale."

Kurt jumped a little at the sudden voice and relaxed only after he realized it was only Christy. She must have come to check on him, or just to secretly check out the eye candy. Too bad he turned out to be poisonous.

His heart still pounding loudly in his ears, Kurt quickly looked around the café, noticing the man had already left. He must have been so freaked out that he barely noticed him departing. Like Harry, the man left no trace that he has ever been there; the trace of muddy foot prints that had followed the blonde's progress towards the counter were gone as well.

"Yeah," Kurt said soft, feeling as far from fine as it was possible, "I'm ok."

God, why was this happening to him? Sure, he heard about these things on TV and all that; after all New York wasn't a really safe place; no metropolises really were. But this was strange even for this goddamned city.

_This can't be a coincidence_, Kurt thought to himself. He just can't seem to figure out what was going on.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


End file.
